


A Girl of Sun, Star and Fire

by Saerehrys



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Ace Rhaenys, Alternate Universe - A Song of Ice and Fire, Gay Egg and Gendry, Multi, POV Multiple, Rhaegar is Alive but Elia is not, Rhaenys is the one about to be crowned not Aegon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-09-18 19:10:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9398930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saerehrys/pseuds/Saerehrys
Summary: Elia has once said her daughter's name would end her, and Elia was rarely wrong. Little Rhaenys lives after the Sack, on her own as a bastard orphan. Later then, she is taken to Winterfell and will have to prepare for the duty of the queen with the Stark children. To live hiding in fear or to live on the watch and endanger her loved ones?





	1. Introduction

**289 AC**

      Where there was a featherbed, now there is hard, cold ground. Where there was a brazier and a warm embrace, there is now cold, darkness and a ripped dress. The cold nights of King’s Landing were never kind; not even to a girl of nine. Rhaenys shivered and her teeth chattered; except the two front teeth she lost when she was punched by the fat baker. Despite that, she looked as beautiful as her mother Elia of House Martell. Unlike her brother Aegon, Rhaenys had the Martell looks; the wavy night-black hair that curled at its ends, the olive skin that shined with beauty, the almond-shaped eyes that were slightly lighter than her hair. Her lips were another story, they were graciously plump dark pink lips that hid the teeth she lost. A small short nose centred her face and full cheeks, that always glowed pink, had dimples as deep as the Moon Door.  

      Rhaenys repeated to herself that a dragon is never cold, even if she thought her fingers and toes were freezing. The fire never burned her, why would the cold freeze her? _I am the promised princess. No, I am_ _Queen Rheanys II Targaryen, the unburnt, venomous dragon._ Her back straightened in pride _._ She thought she was immortal, uninformed that her Father’s necklace that she never took off, held a red ruby, and that ruby possessed a magical power of either disguise or resurrection. Rhaegar has told her that magic does exist and warned her that it could be a source of dread. Madness and greatness are two sides of the same coin. Every time a new Targaryen is born, they say, the gods toss the coin in the air and the world holds its breath to see how it will land. On which side has it landed when she was born? She was determined that she is great, but still acknowledged that she is dishonourable.

      An innocent, sweet, summer child, she was not. She lacked morality and honesty. She never spoke kindly to people; even to the ones who did. She never told the truth either. She lied to people and was unfriendly.     

     Dishonesty was not Rhaenys’ only sin. She was a scheming thief, who had sweet wit and a talent for words, which helped her get out of trouble. At the young age of six, she stole a dagger from Tobho’s shop, which takes courage and intelligence. It was well-forged, had handle that was golden and a really sharp blade, but what a fool she was. She forgot to steal a scabbard. She was not sinful either, she prayed to the Gods, the New Gods everyday and night.   

       Her mother always told her, “The Seven will always, answer you, forgive you, and love you, and so would I,” Elia’s voice was as sweet as the fruit from Dorne. She wished her mother was here. Elia came from the warm lands of Dorne. Everything about her was warm, her smile, her laugh, her words, her embrace. Rhaenys longed for her Mother’s embrace. She missed Elia and Aegon. She did not care if the small folk sang songs about her Father, noble, gallant Rhaegar kidnapping Lyanna. She did never believe and never will she. She missed Rhaegar, like the blind misses sight. She was his dragon princess, after all. She loved him, and so did he.      

       She wondered _why would Father go with a damn Stark? He always said they lacked intelligence._ She giggled at the thought. And as she laid on the ground and the darkness surrounded her. She closed her eyes and imagined Elia’s gentle warm smile, and Rhaegar’s strong arms surrounding them both. Aegon was in her little hands, sucking at his thumb. Their melodic voices helped her to sleep. Her ears heard them as if they were with her. _The Song of the Seven_ echoed until her mind drifted into the other world.

      The steaming sun blinded her eyes. The days of King’s Landing were warm and smelly, the air was thick and sticky, and she never liked it. Eyes open now, she jumped up. She needed food. She brushed her fringe away from her round face with those little hands. She took a deep breath before going to steal and stab. A princess would never imagine being in that position, especially the crown princess. She remembered her loving uncle, Viserys. They call him The Beggar King now. He deserves none of that. He was kind, gentle and jolly. She wondered how much he would have changed, he’s a boy of three-and-ten now, she missed him. 

      _The day starts now._ She brushed away the yearning and squinted her eyes at the people who are already up and working and slowly walked through the Street of the Sisters. She turned her head to the right, and saw Rhaenys’ Hill. _If I walked far enough I could reach the Sept of Remembrance, I could pray for her soul._ She always prayed for the dead; for Elia, Aegon, Rhaella and Rhaegar. Praying wasn’t the only reason to visit, she loved the dragon pit, she imagined Balerion the Black Dread of Old awaiting for her mouth to voice _Dracarys_. Balerion is long dead, and so would she be if she did not proceed. Her little legs led her to the Street of Flour, where all the bakeries reside. The smell made her stomach growl like her mad grandfather. She knew the bakers were protective of their bread, especially the unburnt ones. Only a fool will stand in the way of the venomous dragon though.

       “Get away! You bloody bastard,” it was the fat baker. He had the most unintelligible accent. She called to mind that the small folk who visited court always talked like him.  “Elyana if you try to steal another loaf of bread I’ll chop your fingers off!”. In the streets of King’s Landing she couldn’t be Rhaenys daughter of Rhaegar Targrayen and Elia Martell, the crown princess. She was Elyana, a bastard whose father had abandoned her and whose mother was slaughtered by an unknown man. It was true. The only thing that was not is that the man who killed her mother was unknown. She knew the murderer, and hated his guts. She acknowledged the fact that her father had abandoned her and her family. He left them for a northern girl, unexpected of Rhaegar. She chose the name because her mother is a descendent of the Rhoynar, and that was a Rhoynar name. But most importantly, it was the mixture of her father’s wife Elia and lover Lyanna.

     “I’m too smart to steal your burnt, tasteless bread Ruger,” her words were sharp and mean. She walked by hundreds of bakeries. The bakers were aware of her presence, but they always failed to guard their baked goods. She spotted tarts at Brandon’s. Tarts that had blueberries atop them. Her home, the Red Keep, had flavoursome tarts like those. She walked measured and sloppy steps beside Brandon the fool. Holding a tray as he fought with a costumer. Her hands swiftly picked five. That was enough for one meal. Fast steps guided her somewhere to settle and eat peacefully. She was famished but she always remembered to thank the Gods before and after every meal. After her prayers, she stuffed her little mouth with all the tarts she had ‘borrowed’.

        “I’m full, thank you for your kindness,” she whispered and looked up. Even if Rhaenys was Elyana, a bastard, a thief, a peasant, one of the small folk, and a back stabber, she always thanked them. She was Elia’s daughter after all, she must have the sweet mouth of Elia’s. 

      She might look like her mother; be sweet, sharp-witted and courteous like her mother. But, Rhaenys was exceedingly intelligent and excelled at anything she put her mind to, just like her father. In theft, reading, sword fighting and even trade. And similar to her father, she was melancholic, quiet, private and she was able to read anything she could put her hands on. Yet, she was feared by the small folk where Rhaegar was loved.

      “Aye. Haven’t I told you, Madilyn. Very mad, that one. She is dangerous,” whispers surrounded her, at all times. She terrorised the small folk, not what she expected when she was an honourable little queen-to-be. She was not little Rhaenys anymore, she feared herself. 

      After the butchering of her family, Rhaenys lost her jolliness, gentleness, love and care for the world and the realm. It was as if Ser Amory Lorch did not stab her half a hundred times, but monstrously ripped her heart apart and crookedly sewn it back. She lost the love in her heart, and her only reason to live was avenging her family and taking back the throne. Ending the lives of the Lannisters and their dogs and the Usurper who slaughtered her family and starting her reign needed education and a great deal of reading.

     Even if reaching the Iron Gate tired Rhaenys’ little legs, she reached it every day since she was seven to meet Ser Vorian. He was a knight that guarded the gate. He seemed to know who she was, but bright Rhaenys never blurted out the truth.  He was a soft spoken man, with black and dark brown waves, an indigo pair and sweet words. 

     “Ser, you a Dayne?” he chuckled every time she asked that question and shook his head. She knew he was one, how could he own an indigo pair if he wasn’t. She thought him a son of Eddard Stark and Ashara Dayne. Rhaenys knew too much. So did he, Vorian knew everything about Rhaegar and always spoke highly of him. It gave Rhaenys a heartache when he mentioned his greatness and how a great king he could’ve been.

    “They say I’m an orphan, I don’t know where I belong.” Even if he sounded convincing, she wouldn’t believe it. Vorian was an educated man, he always brought her books and taught her how to read and write. He taught her the History of Westeros, and seemed to favour the Martells and the Targaryen. His knowledge of Ashara was vast, why she threw herself into the Summer Sea and how her story was dreadfully sad and talked for hours about how she fancied Eddard. He sang his own praise about being named after Vorian Dayne the Sword of the Evening; hence, raising Rhaenys’ suspicions. He was a skilled fighter and a great story-teller. She enjoyed sitting on his lap as he gestured with his hands how the Martells defeated the dragons, in the age of  Aegon the Conquerer. He taught her everything about the Targaryen ancestors of hers. She loved the story of Daenerys the Dreamer and her visions prior to the Doom of Valyria. Valyrian was a language he loved. Rhaenys spoke Valyrian like a native language. She couldn’t do much of that today.

     Today was not a day for Rhaenys to read, write or listen to stories for hours as she had to accomplish many things. She needed gold to get on a ship heading to Storm’s End and then to Sunspear, home of her uncle Oberyn. The ship would leave the Blackwater Bay by the morrow. She searched for gold to run off with or chicken to trade.

       Streets of Fleabottom stank. The air escaped and entered her lungs through her mouth. She wouldn’t risk smelling the stinking air. A little boy’s cry interrupted her daydreams of Dorne. He was alone and crying. He looked like a boy of six or seven. He reminded her of herself, when she left the Red Keep after the Sack of King’s Landing. It moved something in her icy heart.

         She headed towards him. “All is fine, all is fine,” she hugged him tightly. Her mother used to that. The boy was tall for his age and he looked strong. He resembled someone, she did not know who yet. “what do you call yourself, little boy?”

        “Gendry,” sniffed the boy as he rubbed his eyes with his little pale hands. She ruffled his coal-black stringy hair. She shined her non-existent smile, it still made him feel better. When he was done crying and sniffing, he put his hands down to hold hers. When he looked at her in the eyes, she saw the Usurper. 


	2. Rhaenys I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2! This chapter is a brief summary of what happened to little Rhae during the years. And after this chapter, shit is gonna get real. Also, I played with their ages, because it would be extremely weird.

**291 AC**

   Gendry’s eyes made Rhaenys shiver with fear. But, he was an orphan too. Even if he was the  image on a looking-glass before Robert, she couldn’t abandon him. When she was a girl of nine, she met him, took him in, worked hard to steal, feed them both and loved him like a little brother. He was a blue-eyed and black-haired Aegon. Gendry was tall and very strong for his age, stubborn, and easily confused. He was an innocent lad, with terrible sense of humour but he always made her laugh. He offered her many; family, love and companionship. Although, she had failed him. She thought herself a failure for she couldn’t afford all the food he needed.

    “Here,” she handed him the larger half of the fresh and warm loaf. “we haven’t eaten all day.” She sighed at the pain in her chest as she sat next to him. “Let’s pray to the Gods.” She closed her eyes and prayed.

    “I don’t believe in them.” She sighed at that too. Understanding his beliefs was hard, but she never questioned them. Without a word they finished their meal. Their tummies still growled liked dogs. She thought of eating pigeons, but Gendry never liked the taste of them. Some of the small folk ate cats. She would never eat a cat, they always reminded her of Balerion. Balerion’s eyes were as green as the jewellery her mother wore and he was as black as the night around her. She remembered how she feared darkness, but now she is darkness. She laughed at how she imagined things in the darkness. Two figures broke through the darkness as they walked closer. _My imagination hasn’t aged a day!_

    “That gutter rat! Over there!” The fat baker was pointing towards her. He was talking to a Lannister guard. _Red cloaks._ She was once wrapped in one. “She’s been stealin’ my bread.” Lannister guards wore Lannister red and golden armour with helmets that covered their whole head but the eyes and mouth, yet she couldn’t see the guards eyes or mouth.

     “Have you been stealing this man’s bread, little girl?” His voice was brittle and unkind. 

     “No, Ser. Haven’t stolen any bread. My little brother and I are starving, Ser.” She could act in a play with this talent. 

     “She’s lyin’! That boy ain’t her brother; he’s just another bastard who helps her steal. And people have heard her say the words: ‘Fuck the Usurper’. She has no respect for our King. A fuckin’ traitor and a thief, should be hanged.” The guard was starting to believe him. 

      “She’s no traitor! And that fat man’s a liar.” Little Gendry is brave. He walked towards Gendry and lifted him by his tunic. 

      “Leave him alone!” She tried to pull angry Gendry down, but she did not succeed. Giving up was not an answer. So, she kicked the ill-mannered guard between his legs with all her force. After she kicked him again, he fell to his knees. She promptly unsheathed his sword and held its end to his throat. “If you try to move, I swear to the Gods I’ll push it through your neck.” No trace of fear was in her voice. She had sworn and yet he tried to stand. She drove his sword through his long neck, slowly. Warm blood splattered on her face, however she did not flinch. “Gendry, don’t look.” He was too young for that. The blood flowed out of his mouth like a fountain. She pulled out the sword and wiped it with the ends of her skirt. Her heavy breathing was the only thing she could hear. When he fell to the ground, Gendry gasped. _I killed him. I killed a man._ She looked at the baker with enraged eyes and he went running off. She rubbed her rough sleeves until there was only a hint of very light red on her face. With no expression on her face and no tone in her voice she pulled Gendry by the hand. “Let’s go.” 

**292 AC**

After the incident, guards searched for her day and night. For her and Gendry’s safety, she cut her hair short with her dagger and avoided attention. She spoke to no one, looked at no one, and only took off her black hood at night. She couldn’t stop ‘borrowing’, though. She stole a baldric and two scabbards to hold her sword and dagger. The Street of Flour was overflowing with guards, it was difficult to get food now. The starvation made it hard to live through the cold nights. She thought of trading Rhaegar’s necklace, but in this time it was the only thing that made her feel like a Targaryen. When she becomes queen, all the homeless children will live in the Red Keep with her. It was large and bloody red, it will fit all the children with no roofs over their heads in King’s Landing. She wanted to work and earn gold, she was tired of stealing and hiding. 

**293 AC**

“Rhaegar hated that Dornish woman, that’s why he ran off with a Northern girl. He got sick. She was weak and ill. Who in the seven hells would love a woman who is just too old for everything?” Men never spoke kindly of her mother, nobody ever did. The blamed her for everything, the Sack, Rhaegar’s Death, even Lady Ashara’s. But, she was not the one to blame. She remembered how her parents loved each other. She remembered in their chambers, when she used to act like she was sleeping, but was listening to their love words **.**

_"You're so beautiful," whispered Rhaegar, as his indigo eyes gleamed. He looked her in those Dornish eyes of hers. Rhaegar and Elia laid on their bed facing each other._

_"I know that," said Elia and after she giggled softly. She caressed his handsome face and jawline. She looked into his eyes for a long while and she lost track of time. They were like the magic he believed in. “and you know that too.”_

_It became silent for a while but Rhaegar broke the silence “You are truly a gift from the Gods," he planted a kiss on her nose. "And when they sent you, they sent two angels with you," he looked at sleeping Rhaenys and Aegon for a moment and then back at her heavenly face._

_"But I can't give you all the children you desire," she whispered softly with sad eyes._

_"You, Rhaenys and Aegon are all I ask for, I would be a greedy man if I asked for more," he always loved kissing her little nose. He shifted to lay on his back and sighed loudly. Then, he giggled. "You know, love?"_

_"What?" Elia moved closer so she can lay her head on his chest._

_"At our wedding," he paused and started giggling again. Elia giggled too. She then looked at him with a confused face. "At our wedding day, when I saw how beautiful and gracious you were, I thanked the Gods I had no sisters," and then he broke into a loud laugh. Elia laughed too, her laugh was warm and contagious. He loved that laugh. He had to look at her when she laughed, it was like the world stops and she is the only thing in it._

Rhaenys almost forgot what happened that night. 

_"Rhaegar?" Elia sounded worried. She sat on the bed, and held his hands tightly. She bit her lower lip before speaking again.”I want to go home.” She never looked him in the eye but at their hands that were tangled together._

_“Oh, is it about your family? Do you miss them?” He was sweet. He tucked strands of her long hair behind her ears.“I can send words for your brother to come, Oberyn, you love him the most and he will always come, he promised that," he rose from their bed._

_“I do not want him here. I want to go to Sunspear.” She sounded desperate. “You can stay here if you wish, but I have to leave.”_

_The dragon prince roared, not a familiar trait of him. "Do not be selfish! You have a family here, Elia!" his fires burned for a simple request._

_"You're going to wake the children," she whispered as she bit the anger in. "I am taking them with me, they are my children. Dragonstone can be under a siege any moment, your father is mad, Rhaegar.” Elia was always calm and sweet but when it came to her children she flashed her fangs, he could tame a dog like Lyanna all he wants, but he should be aware of the Viper’s venom. “It’s for the children, All I want is their safety. Don’t you want that too?”_

_“Am I not being a good father? Am I not capable of protecting my children from my own father?” He questioned. "Is that what you mean?" He roared on. He raised his hands and was about to strike his wife, but he stopped halfway at Rhaenys' crying. Elia ran to her and hugged her tight._

_"All is fine my love, all is fine," in her mother's embrace Rhaenys stopped crying and started sniffing. Elia hugged her even tighter now, soon enough, Rhaenys drifted to sleep. Rhaegar huffed and stormed out of their lives._

  In the depths of her soul, she believed their love excited. Not even her level of immorality could erase the innocence deep down inside of her. Not Vorian could explain the complications of their love. He had left them, and he is dead now. He only lives in her memory, that has little of him.

**294 AC**

    _“Rhaenys, love, run to your father’s chambers.” Elia was out of breath, her eyes went from Rhaenys to the wide brown door. “Run and hide, you can never come out until Ser Jaime calls for you. Love… Look at me… This is not a game there are bad men and they are not friendly. You hide in father’s chambers now!” Her eyes were wide and terrified. The screams echoed in the halls of the bloody red castle. The sounds terrified her little kitten, Balerion, so he darted off. Elia gestured to Rhaenys that it was time to leave. She worried for her mother, but she knew Elia is a surviver. After she gave her mother a face of courage, she scurried to Rhaegar’s chambers._

_With fear in her heart the halls seemed to narrow with every moment. The walls were blood-red. They matched the screams she heard. She did not have to worry about lifting the heavy skirts, she always wore, for she was wearing a simple white nightdress. For her own good, those little feet made no sound when they hit the rough stone. As she reached the bedchambers, she lightly pushed the door open, scared of making any sound that could lead the bad men to her.  Her eyes searched for a hiding place and her mind recalled every one of them that made people search the castle for hours. They landed on her father’s bed and she slid under it. Aegon’s cries blasted and after a thud were gone. Her mother’s wails did not. She screamed so loud that Rhaenys couldn’t hear her own crying. Her whimpers made it hard to hear what Elia has shouted before the voices stopped. She thought she heard the last syllable: “Ar”. In her mother’s Dornish accent it seemed like the end of the names Arthur or Rhaegar. She prayed for Rhaegar’s return._

_Resting on her elbows, she covered her ears with her trembling palms. “Father will be here, father will be here any moment,” she repeated those words over and over again until Rhaegar came to her rescue. But, Rhaegar’s soul has risen to the heavens hours before. An unfriendly strong hand pulled her ankle. “Father!” Her face shined but the dark shadows of the Manticore, who has thrusted his blade in her gut half a hundred times; the Mountain, who dashed her brother’s head on the wall, raped her mother and squeezed her brains out and the Usurper, whose Warhammer has destroyed Rhaegar’s chest plate and knocked him down, have overshadowed the tiny sun she was. It was not Jaime, Rhaegar, Arthur or even Selmy, who came._

      The tears were dry on her cheeks, she pulled her sleeve down and used it to wipe any trace of tears. Her eyes squinted at the sun’s light that came through her room’s window. Even if the room was small, it fit her and Gendry. She had a roof to sleep under. She is a girl of four-and-ten now. She grew taller, her hair down to her waist, her arms and legs longer than ever, and she as breath-taking as ever. She worked at an inn, and her room was located there. As an apprentice at Tobho’s, Gendry polished armours and helmets. When he came home, he smelled like burned wood and was covered in soot, even if he did nothing of the smithing. Their jobs were both so draining.

    She poured drinks for travellers and drunk old men. She had to maintain a good attitude towards costumers or she would be fired, that was her opportunity to use her skills. Yet, having to not curse or snap at costumers who enraged her was wearying. Gendry found it tiring too. At Tobho’s, knights and fools with gold, struck him when their armour and helmet weren’t polished enough, even if they were so polished you could see your reflection. Gendry was a little boy of ten-and-three, only a year younger than her. But, she saw him as only a young boy who's not capable of being independent. _Who in their right mind would strike a green boy?_ She almost forgot they are in King’s Landing after all. 

    The Seven Kingdoms were ruled by the worst man in all of them, even worse than Mad Aerys. He sat on her throne. The throne her father never sat upon. If Robert Baratheon knew of her resurrection he’d call for her head. She remembered the nightmare she had and wished it all untrue. Those monsters haunted her sleep every night. She hated them. She is in this position due to Robert’s jealousy and the lack of compassion of the Lannister dogs. Because of their doing, she has to work harder than ever. 

       She was late for work. After bidding Gendry a goodbye and hugging him tight, she hurried down the wiggly stairs that could fall with the lightest weight. When she reached the door to the inn, she pushed it and it flew open.

   “Good morn, Jaremy!” Her dimples dug deep in her cheeks as she smiled and nodded at the innkeeper. “Good morn, Tacy!” She nodded at the innkeeper’s wife. She went to fetch a towel and scrub the tables. The sun gleamed through the glass windows and lit the very dark and depressing place. 

    “Scrub them hard, people will be comin’ any moment,” Jaremy commanded. He was taller than trees, and as thin as spears. He had no hair and round eyes so grey, they looked colourless. His wife was short with a thick body, short brown hair and brown small eyes. They were kind and welcoming, they never made her pay for the room she resided in. The door was open and the people with gold came in. 

     She studied the faces of the costumers as she headed to the bar to pour drinks and serve food. Different people came in, nice or rude, chatty or private. She did not care about any of that as long as they had gold. She worked for long hours and the day seemed to be endless. When the night came she hoped they would stop coming in but the never did. They swung the door open and closed. The door was almost broken when four men of the Kingsguard came in. 

    “Where is the bastard boy, Gendry?” Announced one of the white cloaks. They were accompanied by Lord Eddard Stark, she predicted, for he was wearing the Stark direwolf sigil on his cloak. She recalled the announcements of Jon Arryn’s death, Eddard must be the new Hand. _What a story to tell Vorian._ She was thrilled to sneak into the black cells and meet Vorian. He was taken by fellow white cloaks who accused him of helping her uncles, Viserys and Oberyn, to reclaim the Iron Throne for the last Targaryens. As she slid back into reality, she hoped for their leave. _How do they know of Gendry._  She bit her lip and gathered all her courage to confront the direwolf. “What do you want with that boy, Stark?” The dragon princess stopped at nothing.

    “Do you realise who you’re talking to little girl?” Asked the man who almost broke the door.

     “Lord fuckin’ Stark, Hand of the King, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North,” her tone of voice was degrading. “I don’t care who the fuck he is, you’re not getting to the boy!” She was clear about not giving Gendry up. Since, she jumped over the bar and stood in front of Lord Stark. He had an astonished expression. Even if he was three heads taller, Rhaenys flashed her both dragon and viper fangs at the direwolf. When his long face turned into a smile, he angered the dragon.

     “Why don’t you talk for yourself, Lord Stark? Has the Lannister cat eaten your tongue?” She almost spat in his face. Before one of the men attempted to strike her, Lord Eddard asked him not to.

     “No, little girl, no cat has eaten my tongue,” he smiled warmly at her. “You’re a fierce one, aye? What do they call you?” _He can’t be so kind after my disrespect._

      “If I tell you my name, would you spare him?” She sounded like a queen discussing politics. 

      “I swear on my honour as Warden of the North and I swear on my loyalty to King Robert.” He swore and she was not satisfied, yet.

       “Do you swear on Lady Lyanna’s soul?” Gasps came from every corner of the crowded inn.

       “I swear on my sister, Lady Lyanna’s soul, that if you tell me your name and come with me to Winterfell, I will spare your little friend Gendry.” He hesitated but he did take a vow in the end. She wanted to put together a name, but she couldn’t. 

        “It’s Elya, short for Elyana,” she almost whispered. “M’lord, please accept my apologies about bringing up your sister Lyanna.” It makes no difference if she hated Lyanna or not, she will always respect the dead. 

         Lord Stark’s dead eyes darkened and his face was a long frown. He kneeled to her level and whispered.

       “Who are your parents, little girl?” He gave her a serious face now. “Elyana?” He corrected himself.

       “I never knew them. My mother died when I was young she was slaughtered by a thief who tried to rob her. I’m a bastard of a man I never had a chance to meet.” _Lies_. She would never tell the whole truth.

       “You will come with me to Winterfell and I will give you and your friend a home, you will be under my protection, sweetling.” He took her hand and left the inn. "Our work here is done." Cold sweat ran down her body. Why does this feel wrong? “How old are you?” He asked her as he mounted his grey stallion. 

      “Four-and-ten.” She was afraid to answer. 

      “Good! You’re old enough to marry my son Robb, but he is a year younger if you don’t mind.” How can he be sarcastic. 

       “Oh, I do mind-“ she was irritated.

       “This is not the time to argue, Elya.” He extended his arms to help her mount up.

 

☀︎

 

   Eddard excused himself from the tiring job of being the Hand. Robert was furious. After that, he got drunk like the pig he is and forgot it all. Later then, Lord Eddard gave Rhaenys no choice in accompanying him. She was stubborn enough to refuse, but she wanted to use his strong-will for granted.

    Rhaenys has asked Eddard to free his son and her friend Vorian. She believes him her sworn shield now, even if she could do well by herself. It made her feel as if she was a princess again. Gendry accompanied them too, eagerness glowed in his Baratheon eyes, when she asked him to. Rhaenys had many wishes and one was going up north and visiting Castle Black. It has been days. They travelled on the Kingsroad. Fields of flowers, fruits and vegetables were on both sides of the road. The journey was silent. She loved the silence but she had many questions for Lord Stark.

    “My Lord, why do you want me to accompany you to your home? I mean, I acknowledge the greatness of my company, but why?” She threw some sarcasm like she always does.

    “I know you… Couldn’t protect you once… Not making that grave mistake again.” His gaze was on the sky and he never looked her in the eye. 

    “Mayhaps, you could tell me who I am?” She let out a laugh.

     “Crown princess, Rhaenys of house the Targaryen,” her eyes widened and she froze. Her face was white as the sky above her, panic has struck her and she found it difficult to breathe. She could hear Vorian and Gendry’s gasps, but Lord Stark’s men seemed to be the most relaxed of them all. “daughter of Rhaegar and Elia, our Queen.” A smile spread on his face. “Your Grace, I’ll be at your service whenever and wherever you need me.” He stopped his horse and hovered over her head to look her straight in the eye. “I supported the death of your father, I was blinded by grief. I ask for your forgiveness. The Gods, Old and New, curse my soul for asking! I prayed for the spill of a great man’s blood, I deserve none of your forgiveness!” His eyes were sorrowful and he meant those words. “You are to marry my eldest son Robb and bear his pups. And then, you will claim your throne.” 

         “Do you think me as stupid as your fellow Northerners, Stark?” She pushed away his hand that rested on her right shoulder. “You want me to claim my throne, for true?” Flames reflected in her glossy eyes. “But you’re marrying me off to your stupid little prick of a prince!” She jumped off and headed to where the seventh of hells is. “You think because I’m some princess, I’ll be naive? You are wrong, I can spot a liar from a hundred leagues, and you are one. I learned steal, swordfight and kill in the most gruesome ways on my own. Looking upon the remains of my family’s heads and listening to songs about my father’s death day and night did not leave me like the sweetling I was.” She never looked back at them, but when she did, “I am a Targaryen. I am a daughter of the Last Dragon Prince and Elia of Dorne. I will not lose my cloak.” _Stop crying._ “I will not marry your son, Stark!” She demanded.

        “You’re not some princess, you’re the crown princess. You will be queen someday. You are here with Lord Stark to prepare for that day, Rhaenys. You are to marry no one, until you agree to it. And when the day of your agreement comes, you can marry your uncle Viserys, since he has no sister. He’s under the protection of the Martells. I am sure you Dornish uncles will be happy to support your claim. You’re going to be our Queen.” Vorian’s eyes were sad but did sound very reassuring. He dismounted and ran towards her. He then hugged her tight and sarcastically said; “and when that day comes… Mayhaps I can be the Lord Commander of the Queensguard? Will I be?” She wanted to laugh at that, but she couldn’t give in easily. 

       “Don’t marry Robb, Your Grace. You could marry a Targaryen? He is kind, clever and a great swordfighter, you will both bond easily.”  _They can’t make me marry someone. I can be the greatest queen on my own._ “I should not have asked you to do something like that, forgive me.” She will not.

      “I don’t know.” She heavily sighed and looked Vorian in his indigo eyes. “But, I need somewhere to settle, food and a safe place for Gendry. Oh! And  a library to prepare myself for the duty of the Queen.” She walked back towards the horse she dismounted and mounted up. 

       “To Winterfell?” She turned to Stark.

       “To Winterfell.” He smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Daenerys does not exist.  
> Please leave comments, your thoughts about this chapter and upcoming ones and kudos! <3


	3. Vorian I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I took so long, I am very sorry! But here it is and I really hope you enjoy it.

     His eyes roamed consciously. His grip sweaty around the sheathed sword he carried around. The Trident was surrounded by mountains that led to the Vale. It was dark, and they saw not a thing but only, near the fire, did they see each others’ faces. 

     He patrolled outside Gendry and Rhaenys’ tent. She told him that she would rather have him near her and feel safe. He thought it one of her tricks to persuade him however. Vorian refused and guarded the sleeping princess and bastard outside their tent.

     There were two tents, one for Gendry, Rhaenys and him the other for Eddard and his men, though they stood with long northern faces in front of his tent’s flaps. 

      Their camp was set between Harrenhal and the Trident, making the princess stiff and uneasy. Days after leaving King’s Landing, she asked Gendry to join Eddard on his grey stallion. Not exactly, she commanded the boy. Her fear made her untrusting of people. Vorian always encouraged her to not trust anyone, not even him. He knew what trust could do to her. What it did to many people, to him.

     Vorian heard movements. He slowly unsheathed his sword. His sword went from his dominant left to his useless right to dry the sweat on his cloak. Then, back to the left hand again.

     His cloak was not a sinless white anymore, but sinful black rested on his shoulders. The white never appeared to him as sinless as before. But, seemed to be soaked in innocent blood and only worn by guilty men. A sinful white. The sounds of movements stopped, and so did his heart, almost.

     “Harrenhal,” the princess sighed. “I can only smell humility and broken hearts.” His heart sank. “And then there’s the Trident, smelling like blood, betrayal and broken promises.” _Promises?_ “Rhaegar promised he’d come back. He left us alone and went after the ice-blooded princess. He first betrayed mother, then his duty and every soul that depended on him,” she pulled out a necklace and looked at it in disgust. “Why did I even trust him? His blood is a curse. Living till this day has to do with my Targaryen blood; full of magic and ancient. Now, when I close my eyes I see mother’s terrified eyes, I hear Aegon’s cries, Father and Mother arguing. Dying would’ve been easier,” her head fell in her small palms. “Rhaegar… Or Father… Who ever he is to me. His name makes my blood boil and my soul bloodthirsty. Then, when I remember how he was before Lyanna, in Dragonstone, I feel at ease and my heart feels warmer than any brazier. He was like you before he left. He seemed like he genuinely cared for us and loved us, but then… Fables filled his head and he argued with Mother every day and night. I loved him before. Now, I don’t know how to feel.” 

       He is her father, now. Her guardian and guide. He felt content. He was staggered. _Daughter,_ his ached heart remembered.

       “The past will haunt you only if you allow it to. And, grief will not help.”

       “Vengeance will. My mother’s soul will rest—Why was I not informed?” She swung her head his way and furrowed her brows. Even if she was raised as a peasant she spoke like the educated princess she was.

       “Inform you of what?” Many hidden secrets he concealed from the princess roamed his mind.

       “What Gregor Clegane did to my mother. He did not just squeeze her head to pieces, did he? She… Su—suffered the fate of,” her eyes pinned to her bare feet on the cold grass. It’s the first time he ever heard her stutter in fear. “Danny Flint.” She whispered so low he barely heard her. He could do nothing but nod, and so he did. Rhaenys feared the sad lament of Brave Young Danny Flint. She felt agitated by the presence of men after the first time she heard the song. He did not dare to blame her, even if he knew she would not be touched, he protected her. She loudly sighed and hugged her legs tighter.

       “They haunt my sleep again. I assume it’s the place.”

       “Do you want a story to help you sleep?” He sat beside her, on the wet grass, and engulfed her small body in his muscled arms. 

       “I’d rather a story about my father. Or, what was he like. Have you ever met him?”

       “Met him? I have, princess. I do know some things about him from a friend of a good friend.” There was glimmer in her eyes whenever she sought knowledge. “He did not like cats, only accepted the black cat of yours because you seemed to dearly enjoy the company of the damned creature. Rhaegar did not drink much—I assume you wouldn’t care about it—but when he did Dornish wine was the only kind he accepted…” He paused searching his mind for all that he could find about Rhaegar, and there was plenty. Rubbing the brown stubble on his carved jaw meant he was thinking deeply. “Oh! The prince called you Rhae instead of Rhaenys. Called Aegon, Egg.” 

     “We all did that,” she giggled.

     “Rhaegar loved reading books about prophecies to you especially. He said you were ‘unusually intelligent for a girl of three’. He was perfect, tall and handsome; talented musician and skilled knight. Loved by men and women, young and old.” 

         “Why did Rhaegar the Perfect die, then?” _Smart girl._

      “His only flaw was his arrogance. He underestimated Robert’s rage and hatred for him. The silver prince never looked upon the list of the many consequences of his actions. He should have. But, he did not and he drenched his long silver hair with his own red.” _Why did you leave her alone, you fool?_

After that, the night was silent. The knight waited for the princess to sleep. He watched Rhaenys’ heavy lids slowly cover her sorrowful eyes. When they finally closed, he lifted her with no trouble and laid her light body next to snoring Gendry. After making sure she is comfortable, and covering her body from the cold, he exited the tent.

       The fire could only illuminate a small circle around it, not farther. Cold obliged him to sit before the fire. _As warm as a brazier,_ the thought triggered his memories. Beautiful memories, they were. And only memories, they ever will be.

     _They were young and playful. She was married and he was a knight of the Kingsguard. It was prohibited for both of them but what dares to stand against love?_

_“I thought he would not leave you alone.”_

     _“He’s my husband, that’s what is expected of him.” She chuckled between their kisses._

  _“Greedy man.”_

      _Their lips longed for each other. Her back was against the stone walls of a chamber unfamiliar to them. He rested his hand in the curve of her back and his other on her waist. Her hands went form resting on his shoulder to hugging his neck._

_An almost dead fire, in the brazier, illuminated the room. The night was cold, and he warmed her bare shoulders by kissing them._

_“Your spit is all over my shoulders,” she laughed loudly, startling him. Muzzling and shushing her, had helped. When she realised what she had risked, her palms cupped her mouth over his._

_Giving her a smirk was a sign of danger; his hands held her waist tightly. He began to tickle her. She, afraid of someone finding them, had to make not one sound. She giggled silently, if that was even possible._

_He looked into her eyes, dark and full of love. She looked into his, indigo and in love. All his friends have gossiped about his lover. She doesn’t deserve the crown prince, they’d said. She’s as frail as an old crone. But, he saw more than that. She loved making jokes, tickling and teasing. The sun’s warmth could never compete with her smile. Her eyes were two black holes of passion and warmth. Her hair was a sea of black waves, he loved tangling his fingers between strands of her smooth hair. It smelled of flowers and strawberries._

_“Rhaegar said we shouldn’t take long,” she ran her long fingers through his cut-short, silky brown hair._

_“Elia, I’m sure Rhaegar can come up with some excuse,” groaned Arthur. The time he spent with the princess costed more than gold and diamonds. More than his own soul._

Arthur, now known as Vorian, sighed. Not confident if his speculations were truth. Is she Rhaegar’s or his? That little girl, is she his? He has bedded Elia, and this girl gave no clue of who her father is. _Is she a Targaryen or a Dayne?_ She does seem like Rhaegar, melancholic and intelligent; would rather spend time with books than people. Her skill with swords may mean she is his daughter. No chance, Rhaegar was skilled at swordfighting too.      

       The City Watch was made up of many men that don’t know of Arthur and the ones who did were old friends and never dared to betray him. Yet, he was imprisoned for treachery; for helping Viserys escape exile and and return to Westeros, little did they know Oberyn Martell took him in. Arthur could’ve been executed but Eddard was five days early.

       “Arthur.” He shut his eyes hoping Eddard would leave. “I wanted to talk to you but the girl never left your side. I see you two got close in the last years. You’re much more than a swornshield to her.” Ned stood near his tent. Arthur glanced back at him for a second, then at the dancing fire hoping it would burn his eyes. 

       “Elia and Rhaegar could’ve been at Dragonstone. She and her brother in their warm embrace.” He nodded aggressively at the princess’ tent. “But, you and your friend, the Demon of this damned river, had to make this little girl grief before she could read.”

      “Rhaegar kidnapped my sister.” Ned angrily muttered.

      “She left with him, contently! I was there at the Tower. She stole away the laughter and love from his family so she can prove she is the ‘she-wolf’! A foolish child.” His eyes never left the fire, as if looking at it without a blink would burn all the people who wronged Rhaenys’ family    

      “Lyanna would not do that. I know you’re angry because of what happened to Elia.” Ned’s steps were very loud, he could hear them over his breathing, rustling of trees and the rushing water of the river. “The princess of Dorne lives in the little dragon princess.” Eddard tried to put out Arthur’s fire.

       “You never returned Dawn,” Eddard forcibly sat beside him on a trunk of fallen tree. 

“It’s in the crypts of Winterfell. It sits beside my sister in her tomb. Thought it would be the rightful place after your _death_.” Stark might be broader than Dayne now, but he was as honourable as he ever was. Arthur grew not a day but only shadows darkened under his eyes. He looked as young as ever. Very young for a man of thirty-and-four.

       His hands extended near the fire.

       The Lord of Winterfell seemed to truly want Rhaenys’ safety. Eddard was a man of his word. He wanted to help Rhaenys reclaim her father’s throne. Noble Warden of the North or not, Arthur had to be conscious for the princess’ sake.

       Disregarding every ally-looking, possible foe, Arthur had a safer plan of his own. When they reach the North, he will send word for Dorne. And when her uncles come for her, they will discuss her throne in Sunspear. She needs family. Gendry and Arthur aren’t enough. 

        They exchanged many thoughts and apologised about mishaps in the past. Arthur and Eddard argued on many things but agreed on one: Robert is not fit to rule. 

         After their long night conversation, they sat silent before the fire regretting. They regretted the past, present and future that is yet to come. 

         “Children like her. Do they get to live a normal future?” His promises plagued him. _Rhaegar, I will take care of them._ All of them. Elia, Aegon, and Rhaenys were meant to survive. Varys was expected to switch Elia with a wet-nurse, Aegon with a Blackfyre babe and Rhaenys with an Essosi child. There was a delay and they died. 

         “You promised? Didn’t you? That’s why you’re dying for her safety.” 

         “She isn’t Rhaegar’s,” his gaze pinned to his quivering hands. “Well, she might be. Rhaegar knew of the late night conversations and kissing in the darkest corridors of the castle. But, never knew of the bedding.”

          “Is it the reason he ran off with Lyanna?”

          “Don’t you dare justify the humility he showed Elia. She made sure not a soul knew of us! And he humiliated her before all the lords and ladies of Westeros.” His rage burned in the indigo pair he had.

          “You? And Elia? That girl? Is this why?” Eddard’s words were unintelligible. He ruffled his own hair. Pacing back and forth he took deep breaths. “Damn it.” He cursed. Arthur gave him no concern.

 

☀︎

 

        The late afternoon air was misty and numbing. They shivered under their heavy cloaks. The further they went up North, the colder it became. A cloud-white sky and a mountainous place that smelled of grass.The horses were fatigue, that being so, they crossed the bridge to the Mountains of the Moon, marching. Gendry whined for the last five leagues they walked. Rhaenys’ confident marching turned into a sloppy and slow gait.  

       “Shall we rest, my lord? The children seem very tired.” He asked.

       “Oh, yes! There… Shall we?” Eddard pointed to a gathering of middle-sized rocks that were obviously arranged by the hands of other travellers. They stopped and headed to where Lord Stark has suggested. Stark’s men searched for trees and found two, the horses can pull out the first one and the other was branchless. Though it was branchless and could be taken out by force, they tied the horses to it.

       “Rhaenys! Who are the Lord and Lady of House Redwyne of the Arbor.” She memorised the Lords and Ladies of each house at eight. Knew the meaning of every house words and their sigils at ten. 

      “Pft! Easy. Lord Paxter Redwyne and Lady Mina Redwyne Tyrell.”

      “House Seaworth?” He thought he could trick her but he failed.

      “It’s a new House. Yet, I always know the answer,” she bragged. “Lord Davos Seaworth and Lady Marya Seaworth.” They played this game till sundown. 

       Before the sunset, Lord Stark’s men went for a hunt and Lord Stark accompanied them leaving the children with Arthur. He lit the fire and rested on the uncomfortable rock. Gendry was trying to climb a pile of rocks, foolish lad. While Rhaenys tried to carve a stone with her dagger.         

       He deeply dived into thoughts about his conversation with Lord Stark. He has told him there is no possibility that his blood runs through her veins. Elia won’t ever allow it, he had said. His rage inside was thunder and storm. What did he mean by that? Ser Arthur Dayne, Sword of the Morning is not good enough. The noises of the outer world sounded like the rushing waves of the Summer Sea when they hit the cliffs of Starfall.

       Gradually, he reconnected with the world around him. Gendry fell off of a pile of rocks and was injured, badly injured. Rhaenys has been calling ‘Vorian’ in need of aid. Dreamy Arthur jolted and trotted towards the bleeding bastard, actually bleeding. He lifted Gendry, who was very muscled and heavy for his age, and laid him on the stony ground. Rhaenys had already ripped the left side of his breeches and it showed his thigh and down. It was a heavily bleeding graze, a collection of them. Gendry’s pale skin grew clammy and paler. It was not like any set of grazes he has ever seen, the marks went from his ankle to his thigh. 

     A small stain of blood was on Arthur’s sleeve, he wore no armour but only chainmail under a tunic. He had a leather bottell of rum attached to his hip. Took it out, bit the lid off and poured it over the boy’s leg. Gendry winced and yanked his leg out of pain. Arthur grasped his foot and straightened his leg. He used a cloth to wipe off the blood. 

      Lord Stark and his men approached from behind the mountains, through the fog. Then,  their eyes fell on the scenery: a fear-filled girl, a bleeding bastard and a nursing knight. Eddard quickened his pace to panicking Rhaenys. She breathed rapidly and rubbed her palms together. One of Lord Stark’s men, named Jory Cassel, tended to Gendry. He cleaned the grazes with water and what smelled like rum. After that, bandaged the boy’s leg with a clean cloth. Jory seemed to know what he was doing, as if trained by a maester.  

     The cloth quickly got drenched in blood, Jory then wrapped two more pieces of cloth around Gendry’s muscled leg, tightly.

       “Don’t use that leg. Try the other,” Jory helped him up. “Good! You can. He’s fine Lady Rhaenys.” He tried to calm her.

       “I’m not a lady,” she hesitated. “Maybe. But, House Targaryen is no longer in power.” Lord Stark’s hoarse laugh broke the silence.

       “My daughter, Arya. Fierce ‘she-wolf’. Always refuses the title Lady.” Rhaenys gave him a confused look and he laughed again. 

 

 ☀︎

 

       They were a day or two from Winterfell. It wasn’t only cold at the time. It was freezing, shivering and bitterly cold. His cloak was not of use anymore. The Wolfswood had an eerie aura. Lord Stark warned them that the Wolfswood is a dangerous place and that they should be conscious. No one uttered a word, it was dead silent. Arthur could hear the whispers of wind as it passed swiftly through the trees. Rhaenys had been complaining about a rotten smell but it seemed like she was the only one who smelled it. 

      The closer Winterfell was, the more horrendous the smell became. Arthur couldn’t help but cover his face.

      A huge corpse of a stag was laid before them. A hunter has not killed this stag but a wild beast, with claws and sharp teeth. The stag was big and rotting; it had one antler missing. There were traces of blood leading them farther into the Godsforsaken forest.  
      Eddard with one of his men went deep into the woods, leaving the rest with unsheathed swords and bows in a hold position. 

      The Warden of the North later emerged hugging pups—direwolf pups. All still very young and blind. There was six pups, four of them grey, one black and the other white. He found them by their mother’s corpse that had an antler deep into its throat. 

      Arthur was startled by Rhaenys’ squeal. _Of course she loves furry creatures,_ he rolled his eyes. 

      “What brought them south of the Wall, my lord?” 

      “The question is: can we take them with us?” Rhaenys was on the tip of her toes, begging Lord Stark. She picked up the black one carefully and thought out loud, “It looks like Balerion, my cat. Wonder how he’s doing.” 

      “He? _It’s_ just a cat, Elya.” Gendry never seemed to call her in her new—real name. 

      “Balerion is family. He’s more than just a pet to me.” She hugged the black-coated pup.

      “You shall not, princess. They’re direwolves, the House Stark sigil. Six of them, my lord. And you have six children, they are meant for them.” Eddard looked convinced for a second. 

      “Well, we’re taking them.” He held two pups out to Rhaenys and Gendry, and they swaddled them delightfully.

       “Look, Elya! A Targaryen pup.”

       “It’s the runt of the litter, boy.” Stated Jory as he stroked the snow-white wolf. Gendry’s grin slowly turned into a frown. “Peculiar. What would bring them here, my lord?” 

       Lord Stark furrowed his thick brown brows and thought deeply. “We need not worry!” He brushed it off with a smile. _How can he master that?_

       Every one of them held a pup, they were small warm and precious beasts. 

       “Lord Stark, we’re a day—or two—from Winterfell and I don’t know your children.” Rhaenys seemed concerned, that would only mean she is eager to meet them, unlike what she had told him in King’s Landing.

       “You will, be patient.” He laughed, his hoarse laugh was loud and ringing. “Well, there is my eldest son Robb, looks like a Tully but is a true Stark at heart. And Sansa, a beautiful lady, after him. Arya is much like you; fierce and stubborn. Bran is quiet and reserved; a very smart boy. My wife, Lady Catelyn, is with child.” He smiled.

       “Who’s the bastard, then?” Curious Rhaenys asked him, demandingly. 

       “Jon Snow, is my bastard. A bright lad and great with swords.” Eddard gave Arthur a strange look. _Jon is her brother,_ as much as he wanted to gasp he kept it in and buried it deep. 

       “Who’s the mother? Mayhaps— _Mayhaps,”_ she sounded like a handmaiden gossiping. “I don’t know but I’m pretty sure something happened between you and Lady Ashara Dayne.” His chest tightened at the name, his dear little sister. 

       “No, Jon is not Ashara’s. A woman you don’t know and don’t wish to know of.” Lord Stark gave him a strange look, again. 

       To brush away the stomach-churning aura, Gendry changed the subject. “When will we reach your castle, Lord Stark?”  

       “If we continue walking through the night, we could reach Winterfell in a day.” 

       They did. All the Southrons looked upon the towering dark and gloomy castle. The place looked like a prison more than a castle, a place to frighten kids. 

      The portcullis rose and the gleaming faces of the Stark Household appeared. 

      “I have a strange feeling—this isn’t right.” Whispered the princess as she shifted uneasily on the saddle.

       

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments, your thoughts about this chapter and upcoming ones and kudos! <3


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